Pondicherry to Mysore

Today was devoted to shopping. We checked out of the hotel but they very nicely agreed to look after our luggage for the day.

So with just a day bag Christine hit the boutiques, of which there are a lot. Part of Pondicherry's French legacy is chic couture clothing. Part of Pondicherry's ex-colonial status means that the taxes that bedevil retail in most of the rest of India are lower or absent here. So it is an excellent place to buy clothes.

After a few purchases, we stopped for elevenses at the number one TripAdvisor restaurant, a chocolate shop called Zukas. Then we decided to walk westwards to find Srinivasa Travels, the local agent for Greenline Travels whose sleeper coach we were taking overnight to Bangalore. This turned out to be quite a long walk as it was quite a way past the new bus station.

We confirmed that it was where the coach would leave from, we were booked on OK, and that the destination was the Majestic bus station in Bangalore. Then we walked back to the Baker Street Restaurant for lunch.

After lunch we explored M.G. road ( Mahatma Ghandi road - the Indians seem to love using just initials of well known names), hastening through the partially closed bazaar which smelt of fish. More shops followed on Nehru road then we adjourned to the park and snoozed a bit on a shady bench.

Afternoon tea was ice cream on the seaside promenade, then even more boutiques. Finally we stopped for a well deserved cup of green tea at the cafe des arts. I think we walked most streets of Pondicherry today.

Supper was at Villa Shanti again, although we could only get a table in the bar. The food was again excellent but even more let down by the extremely slow service, parts of the meal being only tepid by the time they reached us.

We walked back to the hotel who helpfully organized a tuk-tuk which took us to where the coach was waiting. It was a big new shiny air conditioned Volvo fully kitted out with proper sleeping compartments.

Off we sped, a sort of collection of random mobile massage beds on wheels to a soundtrack of whining gears. We were kindly given a bottle of water each, but no-one mentioned that there wasn't a toilet on board. The only comfort stop was four hours later on.

The time passed quite fast though, sleeping fitfully, and we arrived in Bangalore's heaving Majestic bus station about 5:30am. We started to head to the satellite bus station for a Mysore bus, but a gentleman advised us that train was better, so we turned down into the underpass to the train station. Then we had to get unreserved tickets.

Never seen queues like these. Christine managed by accident to get into a ladies only queue which was faster than the others and after 20 minutes had purchased IR120 (GBP1.20)'s worth of tickets for the both of us.

We got seats on the 7am express train which wasn't overcrowded. It slowly headed southwards at about 25km/hr and we reached Mysore at 10am.

A porter carried our bags to a tuk-tuk then our problems began. We were booked into the OYO hotel and the driver couldn't find it. After about an hour of touring the city, he tracked down a hotel with that name, not being able to read compounding the problem, complaining that the address was wrong.

When we got in it turned out to be the wrong hotel. The manager explained that although the booking said OYO, the hotel we were booked in was called the President. He bundled us into another tuk-tuk and the new driver couldn't find that either. It turns out that the road in front of the hotel has been dug up and closed to traffic, with the result the only vehicular access is through the back entrance. By this time with a combination of lack of sleep and frustration, Christine was close to tears.

Finally we made it, and thankfully got some rest before starting the day again.